Breaking Free (BXB)

Chapter 1-Head in The Sand

Three birds glared at me, moving simultaneously and looking like little birdie serial killers. They perched on the edge of Mrs. Maxwell's open window, trying to put tiny little bird-eye sized holes in my head.

I didn't know what I'd done to them, but whatever it is, I was certainly sorry. The birds shook out their feathers, and with one last glare, flew off, cawing as they left. They'd been following me for a week now and they didn't seem to be taking a break in the stalking department.

"Mr. Wilson!" The shaking cry of my History teacher pierced my thoughts. "Pay attention, please." She said curtly, spittle flying out of her mouth. Turning her beady eyes away from me and back to the lesson, she huffed, before writing something on the board. I probably had one more strike before she tried to murder me. Eh, one strike might be a little too much to ask of her.

She had gone back to prattling on and on, making cold, monotone comments on the Civil War. Her voice grated inside my head like nails on a chalkboard, and I wanted to scream or cover my ears or something. A sharp ringing made my mouth go dry. Wincing, I covered my ears, squeezing my eyes. The sound of birds crying, and a wild cat roaring filled my ears, pain piercing my body. Groaning, I rested my head against the desk, relishing in the cool feel as the noise subsided.

Stopping at the noise , Mrs. Maxwell turned to look at me, her giant tower of grey hair seeming to slouch to the side like the leaning tower of Piza. With a pop of her neck, her demon-like eyes turned to glare at me. I gulped and snapped my mouth shut, staring holes into my empty notes, hoping she would just get back to teaching. Maybe she was feeling less grouchy today. I'd read all about the topic of today's lesson the night before, hoping to spend this class period catching up on sleep. It's an endless cycle and try as I might, I can never keep up.

"Mr. Wilson, do you have something you would like to say to the class?" Mrs. Maxwell said sharply, lacing every syllable with venom. She quirked an eyebrow up, her cracked lips pulling up into a smirk. I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. Isn't she supposed to be older and wiser? I mean, she's got the older part down just fine, but she acts like her only happiness is getting me in trouble.

Still, I would rather not end up in the principal's office for being disrespectful to the old bat. Sighing, I swallowed my pride and looked into her vulture eyes, preparing to say no and get to work, like a good boy. Something within me grumbled and irritation danced in my chest. For a split second, the world flickered green and I could hear the chirping of tropical birds. Then I was back in my desk, my body numb. I rubbed my eyes, blinking a couple times and pinching myself, a surge of irritation crashing through me out of nowhere.

Glancing up, I found the entire class staring at me, wide eyed. A boy in the back crowed as if he'd heard the best roast of his life. Mrs. Maxwell's eyebrows shot up at that, lifting her wrinkles with it. Oh gosh, what had I just said? I couldn't remember a thing, only the vague sense of the jungle. My leg began to bounce erratically and all the color drained from my face.

"Mr. Maxwell, your language!" She crowed, her face turning a dark shade of purple. Several of my classmates snickered and began to whisper to each other. Oh gosh. Her face was purple, she's more than just mad. I wanted to sink into my seat and hide from the world but my body stayed still, staring Mrs. Maxwell dead in the eye. There wasn't a single bone in my body that wanted to continue talking, to continue doing anything at all if I was being honest. Then a pain like nothing I had ever felt pierced my shoulder and I cried out.

Blushing to the tips of my ears, I stared at my desk. My heart thundering in my chest. The only explanation was that I was going crazy. To see jungles and feel pain that wasn't there wasn't normal. I had to be going crazy. The class slowly tittered to a dead silence, sensing the storm that was coming. I could hear every beat of my heart pounding in my chest. I gulped. This was how I died. I just knew it. It would read on my tombstone 'Here lies Milo, died of terror from back talking a teacher.'